


Wings

by Morgan (morgan32)



Category: Hercules: The Legendary Journeys
Genre: M/M, PWP, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-03-08
Updated: 2009-03-08
Packaged: 2017-10-02 06:18:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,446
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3452
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/morgan32/pseuds/Morgan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cupid rescues Iolaus...sort of.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wings

_Next time you hire a boat, Iolaus, try choosing one that _floats_._

The hunter was not having a good day. He was tired, and the water swirling around his leaking boots was doing nothing to improve his mood. With an exaggerated sigh, he pulled the oars into the boat again, balancing them carefully on the row-locks. Reaching for the bucket, which was, truth be told, leaking more than the boat, he started to bail out the water again.

It seemed pointless. No matter how much water he threw out, the stuff was leaking back in.   
_It would have been quicker to swim,_ he thought irritably. _Probably drier, too._

Just as he was beginning to think his day couldn’t get any worse…

A monstrous shadow passed overhead. Iolaus looked up, dreading what he might see. He hadn’t _heard_ of any flying monsters around here.

His heart leapt as he recognised the shadow. _Oh, gods, it’s Cupid. That’s all I need._

The shadow’s owner saw him and circled down to land in the prow of the boat. The boat rocked dangerously. Swearing, Iolaus made a grab for the oar. He missed. A mere inch from his fingers, the oar slipped out of the row-lock and into the water. The hunter shot the god an irritated look and leaned over the side as far as he dared, stretching out a hand toward the oar.

"Wo-woah!" he exclaimed, losing his balance. The predictable happened: in a flailing splash of whirling limbs Iolaus fell overboard, headfirst into the lake. He surfaced spluttering, wondering what else could go wrong today. Treading water, he looked up at his not-exactly-welcome visitor.

"What do you want, Cupid?"

Cupid, grinning, leaned over and offered Iolaus his hand, his wings spread wide to keep the boat steady. "I thought you might be pleased to see me."

Iolaus made a grab for the errant oar, then reached up for Cupid’s hand, trying to hold both the oar and the edge of the boat with the same hand. After a few hilarious moments of struggle, he felt the god’s strength haul him out of the water.

He sat down on the bench opposite his rescuer, pulled both oars safely inside the boat, shrugged out of his waterlogged vest and ran a hand through his soaking hair. Water ran down his neck and over his shoulders in cold rivulets. He shook his head hard, like a wet dog. That achieved a bit more: a huge spray of water went everywhere, but at least it was leaving his head.

He looked up with a reluctant smile. "Thanks, Cupid."

"Any time." The god of love sounded amused. Shining droplets of water clung to his wings and the bare skin of his chest.

Iolaus tore his eyes away from the sight. "Uh…Cupid, do you _want_ something, or were you just passing and decided to make my day?"

"_Do_ I make your day, Iolaus?" This time the god’s laughter carried a new edge.

An edge Iolaus had hoped he wouldn’t hear. He remembered — how could he ever forget! — his last encounter with this god. He remembered the heat of the god’s skin against his own, remembered the way his eyes looked drugged with lust, remembered all too clearly the unique taste of the god’s essence… After, he had jokingly accused Cupid of having over-used his arrows, and the god, apparently not amused, had sworn that not a single arrow from his bow had touched Iolaus. Ever.

Iolaus had _known_ that.

‘Don’t go there,’ he told his libido sternly.

He reached for the bailing bucket again, looked at the rapidly filling boat and abandoned the idea. Tossing the bucket down — the bloody thing was _floating_ now — he glanced up at Cupid (‘s gloriously golden body) again, trying hard to ignore the god’s flirtatious smile. "Well, since you’re here…a little help, please?"

Cupid’s (smouldering) dark eyes scanned the boat where he stood. "In my expert opinion…you’re sinking."

Iolaus smirked. "Gee, like I couldn’t have figured _that_ out on my own!" He hesitated, knowing where asking for help could lead. Then he shrugged. Anything was better than spending the afternoon swimming. This was a _big_ lake. "Okay, I know I’m asking for trouble, but could you help me, Cupid, _please_? Take us someplace without all the water."

Cupid considered the request with mock-gravity. Then he grinned. "Sure. Anything for mom’s favourite mortal." He waved his hand and a rain of golden sparkles surrounded the boat. Both god and mortal vanished.

Abandoned in the middle of the lake, the leaking boat filled even more rapidly. Together with all its contents, it sank slowly beneath the surface. All that was left floating was a single oar.

***

Iolaus didn’t know whether to be angry or just to laugh.

Cupid shrugged. "Oops."

Through gritted teeth, sounding furious though in reality he was struggling to hold back hysterical giggles, Iolaus told him, "This was _not_ what I had in mind."

They had materialised inside Cupid’s castle. The room was warm and dry. There was food on the table together with a sizeable jug of ale. The chairs looked soft and there was a very large bed in one corner, with an empty baby’s cradle beside it. It was everything Iolaus had hoped for.

With one problem. Iolaus was naked.

Cupid, apparently unconcerned by this, bent down to pick up the fishing net which was, somehow, the only other thing that had come with them from the boat. Iolaus snatched it from his hand, using the net to cover himself.

"You brought _this_ but not my _clothes_?!! Cupid, I don’t know what you’ve got in mind here, but…"

"I’m sorry." Cupid gave a sheepish (sexy) grin. "You told me to leave the water behind. This was the only thing that wasn’t wet."

Iolaus couldn’t help laughing. He relaxed a little. Involuntarily, his eyes were drawn to Cupid’s hands, remembering those hands on his body, moving over him and within him…he saw the full, sensuous lips form a pouting smile… Iolaus groaned, unable to control his body’s response.

Cupid took a step closer. "I knew you’d be happy to see me."

Iolaus flushed hotly, embarrassed. This silly net was no protection. "Cupid, can I _please_ have my clothes," he begged.

Cupid snapped his fingers and a pile of sopping wet leather and purple rags appeared on the floor between them. Hunter and god both stared at the slowly spreading pool of water.

Cupid sighed. "I’ll find you something else while that lot dries." He brushed past Iolaus, his leather trousers just touching Iolaus’ bare ass. "At least lose the net, Iolaus. It doesn’t hide anything." He walked over to the bed and sat down, looking at Iolaus in obvious invitation. Iolaus didn’t move, didn’t speak. Cupid dug into the cradle and pulled out a little blue blanket. "Will this do?" he asked, tossing it to Iolaus. "I always thought blue was your colour."

It required a few attempts, but eventually Iolaus managed to tie the blanket around his waist as a sort of loincloth. It did little to hide his growing embarrassment, but it _was_ an improvement. Making an effort to relax, Iolaus wandered over to the table, helping himself to an apple.

"Thanks, Cupid," he said, trying really hard to keep his voice steady. "Y’know," he added, taking a bite of the fruit, "this is really good."

"Really?" Suddenly the god was right beside him.

Iolaus felt the heat of Cupid’s body so close to his, even though they weren’t — quite — touching. He turned to face the god, a light remark on the tip of his tongue. Only then did he see that Cupid was naked, and, he couldn’t help noticing, fully aroused.

Iolaus cleared his throat nervously. "Would you, uh…_not_ do that?" He took a step backward but found his escape blocked by the table.

"I thought you’d be more…comfortable…if I dressed the same as you," Cupid told him. A shrug of one well-muscled shoulder. "Just trying to be a good host."

"Sure you are," Iolaus agreed sceptically.

Abruptly, Cupid was on the other side of the room. He frowned, not meeting the hunter’s eyes. "Okay, Iolaus, I get the message. I never forced anyone in my life."

_Oh, gods, now I’ve hurt him._ "Cupid, I didn’t mean it like that," Iolaus protested lamely. "It’s just…the last time was a bit…overwhelming, you know? And you’re moving a bit fast, here. _And_ I'd really like it if just once I wasn't fucking you within an hour of meeting you. I mean, call me old-fashioned, but I’m — "

Fingers softly on his lips silenced the hunter’s babbling. Cupid’s face, his dark smouldering eyes, were only inches from Iolaus’ face. He leaned in for a kiss, giving Iolaus plenty of time to back off. He didn’t.

Their lips touched, very lightly at first. Iolaus moaned, surrendering to desire. It was he who reached out, grasping the naked flesh his hands encountered and pulling the god’s body close. His lips parted to accept Cupid’s questing tongue. The first taste of him left the hunter’s body quaking with desire. He slid his hands over the god’s body, cupping his buttocks, then moving sensuously up to the base of his wings.

He felt the loss almost as pain when Cupid pulled away.

"Gods, Iolaus, talk about mixed messages!" Cupid was laughing. "What do you want? Wine, candlelight and a planned seduction like you’re some innocent maiden?" One of his hands lay possessively on Iolaus’ ass. He bent his head and began to nuzzle at the hunter’s neck. "You are so beautiful, Iolaus. You should have been a god. C’mon. Tell me what you want."

Iolaus found his voice, a hoarse growl. "You…I want you." His fingertips traced lines from Cupid’s back around to his chest, circling his nipples and teasing. He leaned backward over the table, pushing his groin into Cupid’s. Cupid’s lips moved over his neck, kisses like tormenting fire, moving lower down his body.

Beneath the blue blanket, Iolaus was hard. Cupid’s hand cupped his turgid flesh, tormenting him mercilessly with a light but possessive touch, feeling his size through the thin, scratchy wool.

And Iolaus couldn’t stand it any longer. He had to do something, or he would come right there. He pushed Cupid’s hand away from his body and turned around, searching the table with desperate eyes. He was sure there had been… yes! A bottle of olive oil among the rest of the food.

Cupid pulled the blanket away from Iolaus’ waist, exposing his hard desire. He was kissing him again, lips moving rapidly over his face and neck and shoulders. "What do you want? Anything you want." The god’s voice was barely a whisper.

Iolaus, gripping the bottle tightly, turned his head to return Cupid’s kiss. "How do you…" tongue wrapping around the god’s earlobe "…_do_ this to me?…" Cupid’s mouth covering his "…Cupid…mmm…" clash of teeth, twisting in Cupid’s arms, his aching cock brushing Cupid’s thigh "…need you…gotta have you…" bodies crushed together, touching everywhere, mounting heat between them, Cupid’s fingers tangling in his hair.

"Yes, Iolaus, yes, take me, fuck me…"

Iolaus fumbled with the stopper on the bottle of oil. Tossing it away in his impatience, he poured half the oil over his hands. Most of it spilled onto the tiled floor. He barely noticed. Cupid dropped to his knees, presenting his bare ass to the hunter. Iolaus rubbed the oil between his hands and then couldn’t bear to wait. He pushed Cupid’s thighs further apart and entered his anus with one oiled finger, sliding his other hand between the god’s legs to caress his tight balls and hard cock.

"Iolaus…" Cupid breathed his name on a cresting of desire.

Irresistible lust overtook him. Coating his penis with three quick strokes, Iolaus gripped Cupid’s hips as he pushed slowly into his ass. It was amazing…the god’s body so tight and hot surrounding him.

"Ah, gods, Iolaus…"

Astonishing that the god should want him, too. That was why Iolaus resisted this, he didn’t like to use, or to be used and it was impossible that this depth of lust could be mutual. Yet it was. It was. Iolaus wanted to be gentle, to make this last, but he couldn’t and anyway gentleness was the last thing Cupid wanted. He thrust hard into the god’s body and Cupid shouted aloud, the sound of his pleasure firing Iolaus to greater heights.

Iolaus kissed him, kissed his back right at the spot between the god’s wings. He had thought those wings would get in the way. He’d been wrong. It was amazingly erotic, soft feathers on his face, breathing in the dusty scent of him, mingling with the musk of passion.

And those wings opened, wrapping around Iolaus’ shoulders, drawing him closer with surprising strength as they moved together.

Iolaus reached beneath his lover, finding his hard cock, knowing he couldn’t last much longer, desperate to bring his lover to peak with him. "Come for me, Cupid, come with me…"

"Iolaus!!" Cupid gasped as the hunter felt his muscles tense and tighten around him, pulling the answering response from deep in his loins as their orgasms flared together; they cried out a harmony of lust and fulfilment.

***

The kiss was long and tender. It would be the last for some time. With a sad smile, Cupid drew away from the hunter. "You’d better go. It’s getting late."

"Yeah," Iolaus agreed reluctantly.

"Until we meet again, then."

The hunter smiled brilliantly. "I’ll have to see if I can arrange that." It had been a wonderful afternoon. He had never thought he could come so many times in one day. Cupid had pleasured him in ways he wouldn’t have imagined possible, lips and tongue and fingers and…well, and much, much more. But it had to end. He had to leave.

With a final, merry wave, Iolaus set off on the road. Hercules would be waiting for him. Well, if he was late, he could blame the sinking boat.

Cupid vanished in a characteristic shower of sparks. But he didn’t move, just made himself invisible to Iolaus’ mortal eyes. He watched his lover go, with sad resignation. He knew the hunter’s destiny lay elsewhere. He knew, too, that he had the power to change that. But he wouldn’t do it. Cupid loved him too much, _respected_ him too much, to interfere with his life in that way.

But keeping such a noble resolution would never be easy.

It hadn’t been Iolaus who was struck by Cupid’s arrow on the day they had met.


End file.
